Fevers Tell The Truth
by randombeandontmindme
Summary: Jafar has every intention to avoid Sinbad forever and there's nothing he can do to stop him. Good thing Sinbad's never been a quitter. -Discontinued
1. Chapter 1

Sinbad was getting worried. Really worried. Jafar had been holing himself up in his office for days now. Months even. He had been progressively spending more and more time throughout the year. Sinbad was starting to go crazy. He had barely seen Jafar at all. His advisor, his confidant, his companion through life. He was just gone. Sinbad couldn't really tell if he was being avoided or if it was all in his head. But he was done with it. He was going to go confront Jafar in his room. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Yamraiha standing awkwardly in front of Jafars room.

"S-Sin-Sinbad," Yamraiha quickly looked up. She was a little too sheepish with her greeting. It made feel a bit on edge.

"Everything okay Yam?"

"Um, not exactly, no." She cowered in upon herself a little more. She walked a bit more into the wall as Sinbad approached her. Sinbad narrowed his eyes and starting closing in on her, caging her in with his body.

"Now let me be very clear." There was an edge to his tone that made Yamraiha nervous. The barely contained irritation under the normal kind tone of voice was a dangerous thing.

"What. Did. You. Do."

"I'm so sorry" She extended her arm out and gently pushed open the door. Sinbad backed off a bit from Yamraiha and walked closer to the door.

"Sin!" And there Jafar was in all of his glory. Flushed and wrapped up in his blanket like a little burrito right by the door. He stumbled forward into Sinbad's arms giggling as if Sinbad being here was the funniest thing in the world.

"Hello there Jafar." Sinbad easily caught Jafar as he started to fall. He looked down, Jafar's flushed face was staring up at him, giddy with glee.

"Hiiiiiiiii~" Sinbad just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Can someone explain why my most trusted advisor is cuddled up in some blankets?"

"Well um, I was going to ask him about some funding for more magical research and he was slumped over on his desk. He was burning up so I brought him into my lab. I had been working on an experimental treatment for fevers recently and he knew about it. I turned away for a second to prepare something more stable and he accidentally drank some of the experimental stuff."

Sinbad's face got darker and darker in rage with each word. Yamraiha could only shrink away as she continued. Objectively Sinbad knew it wasn't her fault but it didn't stop him from feeling angry.

"And you decided that not telling me that Jafar had a fever was a wise decision?" Each of his words were clipped with his barely concealed frustration mounting in his voice.

"He told me not to."

That made him pause. Sinbad glanced down at his advisor still swaddled in his arms. He seemed to be getting more hazy as time went on. He wasn't listening to their conversation and his breathing was getting a little harder. Sinbad just sighed.

"Okay Yamraiha I can take it from here. You can go now. On your way out can you send for some cold water and some towels?"

Yamraiha glanced down at Jafar then to Sinbad giving him a sort of pitying look before giving a curt nod and then scurried away.

Sinbad took stock of the situation. Jafar seemed to have a very bad fever and wasn't getting any better. Whatever he drank in Yamraiha's lab it sure wasn't lessening his fever.

"Okay Jafar time to go to bed." Jafar made a little grumble of acknowledgement.

Sinbad, deciding that getting Jafar to walk would be too troublesome, swiftly lifted him into a princess hold. Jafar did nothing but snuggle closer. That was already another bad sign. If Jafar was coherent he would be kicking frantically and sputtering, face red. But currently Jafar was getting worse by the second.

Sinbad gently laid him down on his bed. Without thinking too much of it, he removed most of Jafars outer robes, leaving just a thin white under-robe. He also took off Jafar's keffiyeh and laid it on the table next to the bed. During this whole process Jafar only got more restless. He had started muttering nonsensically. Sinbad looked at him nervously. In all of his years of knowing him, Jafar had never really gotten sick. Not to this extent.

Startled out of his revelry, his head whipped toward the door where he heard a knock. He quickly got up and met the woman at the door. It was one of the servants named Aliya. She was a nice woman but also a flirty one. Quite attractive, smart, and well endowed in many areas. In most contexts Sinbad would have no problem flirting with her. But right now as she pushed herself up against him all he could think about was the sick man in the bed behind him. He didn't think about her body or her hair he only thought about Jafar's feverish face. He grew frustrated with her continual flirting and her refusal to go help Jafar.

"I really need that now. Thank you so much"

Taking the water and towels from her hand he shot her a strained fake smile and quickly shut the door. Heaving a sigh of relief, he walked back into the room. It was sparsely decorated. Jafar's time as an assassin never really ran its course out of him. He didn't really keep anything he didn't find important.

Jafar's muttering has lessened noticeably but still more than he would like. Sinbad sat next to the bed, delicately draping the water soaked cloth over his forehead. Jafar shivered under the coolness of the cloth but didn't wake up. Sinbad could only sit back worried as Jafar continued to shiver. Feeling a wake of exhaustion hit him he laid his head down on the bed.

Sinbad startled awake to Jafar's muttering. Glancing out the window Sinbad calculated the time. It had probably been about 4 hours since he fell asleep. Sinbad stretched upwards and cracked his back. He had a crick in his neck from laying over on the bed in the stiff chair. He quickly glanced back to see Jafar throwing his blankets off himself, thrashing around. He was still muttering and didn't seem any more coherent than before. Maybe even less so. Sinbad held him down trying to calm down his thrashing. He quickly rested his hand upon Jafar's forehead. The fever seemed to have just gotten worse.

"Jafar? Can you hear me?" Jafar only groaned in response.

"Who are you?" Sinbad's forehead creased at that. He was more out of it than Sinbad had originally thought.

"How are you feeling?"

"Bad.."

"Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

He didn't respond just started muttering more nonsense.

"Don't want him to know..." Jafar's voice became weaker the more he talked.

"Who?"

"Sin..." Sinbad startled a little. Now that was odd. Why would Jafar want to keep this from him?

"Why don't you want him to know?"

"He wouldn't care."

And in that moment Sinbad's heart broke just a little.


	2. Chapter 2

When Jafar had woke up he was greeted with the image of Sinbad lying on the side of his bed. Now this was the first clue that something was off. Sinbad, although no stranger to harsh conditions, had become fond of his creature comforts and wouldn't willingly rest like this. But the more pressing question was why he was in Jafar's chambers? To be honest it was a new experience. Sinbad had never been in Jafar's quarters before, due to Jafar's own wishes. Sinbad had been a bit upset at first but he let it go. Jafar had been so adamant that there was no point in fighting about it.

When Jafar was 15 he realized something. Something very important and something that would change his life. One, he was gay. Now the important fact wasn't that he knew this but about how he found out. He found himself infatuated with the man's every move and every word. He wanted to please him, to monopolize his attention, and to do… other things. But with Sinbad being his first ever friend an all he was completely off limits. Also Sinbad was a womanizer. Always had been. So that week, after panicking about these new found feelings, he made some rules for himself.

Do not get drunk around Sinbad.  
Never discuss love or affairs with Sinbad.  
Leave when Sinbad was flirting with someone.  
Never let Sinbad in his room.  
Never initiate physical contact.

Was that the most healthy way to handle this? Probably not. But that didn't stop Jafar. He had very vigilant with these rules, the list expanding as the years passed by.

Sinbad had noticed over the years that Jafar had become more standoffish, but Jafar brushed it off every time it was brought up. His plan was that if he distanced himself, controlled himself, these feelings would disappear. They would leave him, free of this desperation, and he would return to a normal life. But alas, it never went away.

So he became more invested in his work, as if it could drown out his worries. But he had to try. He had no other choice, this was his only option. Without this he would go insane there would be nothing left. So he stuck with these rules, holding onto them, providing the only sanity he had left.

He could see that it hurt Sinbad, Sinbad confused as to why his advisor kept distancing himself. But it hurt more to be near him, to have hope. He could do this. He could do this even if it meant that for the rest of his life he would be at this standstill. He could do this. For Sin. For himself.

It's not like Sinbad would really care. Jafar wasn't some beautiful woman, some lover, someone to hold close. He was replaceable, as everyone in the palace was, and that knowledge kept him going. As Jafar kept distancing himself Sinbad stopped trying as hard. Jafar couldn't tell if he was thankful for that or not. It stung, a deep pain inside his chest, but in the end this is what Jafar had wanted. This is what he had tried to do. He hadn't considered the effect it would have on himself. But in the end, all the mattered was that Sinbad was happy, and he was happy not being concerned for Jafar.

This all brings him to back to the fact that Sinbad should not be in his room. Glancing out the window he can tell that it is just reaching morning. Sitting upwards, he found himself more uncovered than he predicted. He tended to get very cold at night so he has special night robes that are warmer than most normal night robes. As he stretched he became aware of the sticky feeling of dried sweat all around his body. It is unpleasant, to say the least.

Silently exiting the bed, he decided to make a beeline to the baths. He was never more thankful than ever to have a private bath area. It was one of the only things he had requested when Sinbad had asked him. He had his reasons for hiding, his many scars, his dislike of his frail, petite body, and his desire for privacy. He huffed a breath of relief as he slid into the bath. The warm water never failed to make him relax. The baths were about the only place he had to himself. Technically speaking Sinbad could come in here if he wanted, but so far he had respected Jafar's wishes on this front. For that he was grateful.

It's been almost a week since The Incident. Sinbad still hasn't gotten over it. It pained him so much that Jafar could ever think he wasn't important. Like he wasn't the whole world. The center of his mind, the holder of his heart. Jafar was the only man who had ever truly seen all of Sinbad. He had seen the good, the bad, the ugly and all the growing pains. He saw the womanizing that would later come back to bite him, he saw the sleepless nights, he saw the desperate battles. You get to know a person after things like that. Once you've truly seen someone, through joy, pain, and loss, you can never go back to the shallow level. You're perception is forever changed for better or for worse. Sinbad knew all of this, but knew that Jafar didn't understand.

Unfortunately he couldn't make Jafar understand because he as avoiding him. If Sinbad thought Jafar was avoiding him before he was very wrong. This was pure, deliberate, avoidance. He would send liaisons to meetings instead of himself, only communicating through scrolls. It was infuriating. Whenever Sinbad would catch a glimpse of Jafar in the hallways, he quickly disappeared. Those years as an assassin had taught him well, if he did not want to be found he would not be found.

He also seemed to have convinced the rest of the generals to turn on Sinbad. It is a little disconcerting that he has such little power in his own palace and kingdom but it pales in comparison to the problem at hand. Whenever he asked any of the other generals about Jafar's location and well-being he got short, non-committal answers that never alleviated his fears. Sinbad had never known such disparity until now. He felt like his whole world was spinning out of control with no way to stop it.

Jafar didn't seem keen on wanting to make up. In his eyes there was nothing to make up for, because he refused to acknowledge that there was a problem, or that Sinbad existed. Sinbad was going to get him to talk. One way or another.

Sinbad cornered him in between meetings.  
"That's it. You're coming with me." Seeing Jafar getting ready with a retort, he added "That's an order."

Jafar just grimaced.

"Yes, my king," Sinbad winced at the venom put behind those words. The acidic way Jafar had said my king burned a whole through his stomach, nausea spreading through him.

As they walked along Sinbad noticed that Jafar was lagging behind him, head held down, as if he was no more than a mere servant girl. Frowning, Sinbad shortened his stride to make himself even with Jafar. Jafar in turn just then slowed down. They played this game until they were walking at a snail's pace. Sinbad could see Jafar's notorious temper ready to make a grand appearance. His face became more and more pinched in anger, but Sinbd refused to back down. He wasn't quite sure where they were walking to. He was a kind of, make it up on the spot sort of man, and stuck to his guns.

As they halted to a stand-still Jafar continued to keep his head low. Sinbad sighed and slowly turned towards his companion. Jafar didn't move. Sinbad reached out towards him. Voice calm, and level he said:

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

As his arm was about to make contact with Jafar's shoulder, Jafar slapped it away in a panic.

"My king," he said through gritted teeth "I ask that you do not touch me."

Sinbad just stared back at him in confusion. This had never been a problem before. Sinbad was a tactile man, expressed gratitude in hugs and handshakes, he had always been partial to physical affection. He had never really ever taken the time to question whether someone had wanted to be touched or not. Regardless of this, he had known Jafar for years and Jafar had never complained before. Sure he had grumbled a little, but never full on slapping his hand away.

This must be another of his developments. Sinbad wasn't an idiot. Well maybe he was but not when it came to Jafar. He had noticed over the years that Jafar had slowly been restricting their contact, in more ways, than one. He was never able to see Jafar's room quarters, he never drank around Sinbad, but had seen Jafar drink around others, had seen him always leave whenever Sinbad started flirting with some women. He didn't understand why this was happening, but he knew it was happening.

It frustrated him to see but he had stopped trying to bring it up. Jafar didn't do things without a reason, and this relationship was too important for him to break by asking some useless questions. He was too afraid of it. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of the answers, and afraid of what it would do to them both. The balance they had was so delicate, hanging on by a thread.

It had never been like this before. When they were young there was nothing held back, words, emotions, actions, free and unrestrained. The emotions raw, words unfiltered, fire in the souls of the whole crew. After settling though, everything had changed. The more they stayed in the palace, the more the little differences caught up with them. Maybe they had been there all along, but the routine of the days made the little changes feel like gaping ravines between them.

He wondered if it would ever be fixed. Would he run around Sinbad until their time was out or would he crack. Or would he leave. Sinbad had never really seriously considered the possibility of Jafar leaving until now. Sin had never once doubted the man's loyalty to him, but the slap had been enough to rattle his mind. It didn't just startle him, it shocked him, shook him to his very core. Something so important to Sinbad, physical touch, was being denied by his once closest friend. Jafar knew it was important to him, making it even more devastating that he would willing deny it, and especially in such an aggressive manner. Normally, if it really bothered Jafar, he would express in exasperation, never irritation.

Sinbad was a simple man. He just wanted Jafar back, he wanted it to all stop, to go away. He wanted the doubts to stop drowning him, the anxiety to stop consuming him, the pain to stop gnawing at him. He wasn't used to feeling this much, being preoccupied with someone in this way. All of his flings never really spared any of his attention, none of them ever emotionally investing, all fleeting and shallow. But now he didn't want shallow. Not with him. He had never had shallow before but now they were getting there. And it scared him.

The next interaction happened to be in a meeting with the generals. Jafar was being as professional as possible, while still being as condescending as his rank allowed. It wasn't very obvious, but it was in the way he dismissed Sinbad's normally jovial tone as childish, the way he undermined all of his suggestions, in the way he was more scathing about Sinbad's failures than usual.

Throughout all of this, Sinbad just looked like a kicked puppy desperate for its masters approval and affection. But Jafar wouldn't let up. Let it be said for all Jafar has overcome, his temper has stayed with him. All Sinbad could do was carry on strong.

The whole room felt tense. Sinbad wasn't dull enough to not give his generals the credit to notice what was going on. With the stifling atmosphere, progress was slow and unconstructive. After a particularly nasty jab about Sinbad's incompetence, his patience was wearing thin. Cooling his expression into one of forced casualnesses he turned his attention to Jafar.

"I don't feel we're getting anywhere on this." Nods of assent from the other generals.

"Can this issue be left for another time?" Sinbad too late realized that he had just opened himself up to another round of verbal sparring.

Jafar surprisingly, did not take the bait. He seemed just about as disgruntled with this meeting as the rest of them.

"Yes we can rest this issue until tomorrow. I think it would be wise for us to call this meeting to an end, my king," Once again Jafar said my king through gritted teeth venom dripping from his tongue.

Sinbad felt half of the generals either wince or recoil in fear. It was truly unheard of for Jafar to call Sinbad by his title, although it has become more frequent over the past couple of days. The vague theories within their minds suddenly became solidified.

As Jafar stalked out of the room, the generals all fell silent looking at Sinbad. He could feel the weight of their stares settle on him as he stood, helpless. In that moment, he was sure he looked like a pathetic sight. Sad eyes, harried expression, posture hunched, not holding the proper air he normally held. The generals all shared some looks with each other. They were deciding what would happen. Yamraiha looked at Hinahoho and Sharrkan, and they just nodded. She then took Pisti's hand and walked out of the room. Marur, Spartos, and Drakon said nothing and walked out together. As they were leaving Sinbad could hear the faint sound words "I need a drink" from Drakon's mouth.

Sinbad knew what was coming but he didn't know if he was prepared for it. For all his bravado he had no idea how to handle this situation. Understanding that he wouldn't be able to get out of this situation, he just motioned them to follow him as he walked somewhere within the palace. To where he was going he wasn't sure, but he knew he had to find somewhere. His feet took him to the private dining hall for the generals.

It was designed as more of a tavern looking area, with a warm feeling. Low ceilings that felt more comfortable than cramped, dark wood that just invited a jovial mood. A fire going in the hearth, as the end of the day ushered in the desert night cold. Inside already were Drakon and the others, waiting, as he knew they would be. He sat down heavily at the oak table, drinks already set before the others. Masrur wasn't a man of many words, he just slid him a cup of ale across the table. As the rest sat down it was quiet.

"Go ahead." He had resigned himself to his fate.  
"So what just happened?" asked Sharrkan, always the first to the punch.

"Yes I am also a bit confused as to why Jafar was acting in that manner," chimed in Drakon.

"He's been off lately," Masrur's deep voice rumbled through the room.

"I wish I could tell you." Sinbad sighed heavily into his drink. He took a long, hearty swig, hoping it could wash away some of the feeling.

"Is Jafar ill?" Hinahoho asked, confusion spreading over his face.

"He was, but now he seems fine, just standoffish." No, Sinbad did not want to be talking about this. He would rather be talking about anything other than this. He just wanted to be left alone to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

"Something obviously happened but you aren't going to tell us?" Sharrkan, unfortunately as nosy as always, was not willing to let this go. Not that that was much of a surprise

"Fine I'll tell you."

Sinbad then regaled them with the story of the day and the night, their interaction in the morning, and all the way until now.

So Sinbad talked. He talked from the beginning, told of how he met Jafar, how their friendship developed, how Jafar had started to distance himself, how he had pulled away, all the hurt, and all the hardships, the most recent development. He talked until his throat ran dry, his body and mind reeling from the stress of it all.

As Jafar hurried out of the meeting room he quickly made for the gardens. They had always been his favorite spot in the castle, well-tended, an ethereal beauty and a privacy unlike any other place in the palace. The birds chirped and sang, the water flowing from the fountains around, creating a symphony of sound. The song of nature had always been Jafars favorite. As he sat on the side of the stone fountain, rose bushes all around, he drank in the smell of the clean fresh air, the smell of flowers filling his nose. Yes this truly was his favorite. It always helped him calm down, tamping down his irritation for the world, and especially for a certain somebody. Just as peace was starting to reach him, the sound of the flowing water calming him, he heard footsteps.

Please don't be Sinbad. I don't think I could handle that right now, he thought.

The footsteps sounded too light and it sounded like multiple people. Around the corner of a bush came Pisti and Yamraiha. Their appearance within the garden didn't affect his mood in the slightest. Their beauty fit so well within the garden the peace stayed within him.

Pisti sat down on the fountain with Jafar, and Yamraiha settled right beneath her on the ground. She lay on her knees, hands folded elegantly in her lap. She carefully removed her hat and out it down next to her and handed Pisti her hair. Pisti, loaded with flowers went about braiding Yamraiha's hair. As she braided, albeit very slowly, she incorporated the flowers into her hair. The methodical way her hands moved throughout the hair helped calm Jafar even further, feeling content and at peace.

"You doing okay Jafar?" Yamraiha asked gently.

Jafar sighed. Even though it was a difficult question he felt calm around them. The presence of the garden, the sound of the water rushing, the calm of the girls, was enough for him not to panic. With anyone else, with any of the male generals, with maybe even Sinbad he would be nervous. He would be scared. But as the warm air washed over him, as the broad daylight starts to fade ever so slightly, he was peaceful. He was content.

"About as good as I have been doing," He said calmly.

Pisti giggled "That doesn't seem to be too well,"

"No I suppose not," A grin also overtaking his face. Pisti's joy was always contagious.

"Is there a reason you were so harsh with Sinbad?" Yamraiha asked.

Jafar sighed. That was a complicated question with a complicated answer. He said as much.

"Love is always complicated." Yamraiha said kindly. Now this is the part where Jafar was supposed to freak out that she knew. This was the part where he would run away or deny it while sputtering. But he was too tired for any of those silly defenses. It was clear to him, and to everyone else that he was in love with Sinbad.

"I suppose it is."

Yamraiha just looked up slowly, a gentle, mothering, look on her face. Yam was as close to a motherly sort of figure as Jafar could get. She was gentle and kind and always calm with Jafar.

"Can you tell us about it?"

So Jafar talked. He talked from the beginning, told of how he met Sinbad, how their friendship developed, how he had fallen for him, how he had pulled away, all the rules, all the hurt, and all the hardships. They listened quietly, Pisti moving on from braiding Yam's hair to making flower crowns. As Jafar brought them to the end of his tale, she gently place a white one on his head.

Still saying nothing, Jafar motioned for them to follow. He got up slowly, body stiff from disuse. They walked through the winding garden towards the city edge. He reached the city walls, and started to climb up an abandoned ladder. This spot was his favorite, the best escape. Once they all reached the top, they had a view of the glorious sunset. The painted sky was a sight to behold, the warmth of the colors washing over them. As they sat there, watching the colors swirl across the sky, Jafar slowly closed his eyes, content to ignore his problems for a while.


	3. Discontinued

Hi guys! I know that at this point it is pretty clear that I have discontinued this fic. I've had the last chapter in the works for some time, but it just hasn't felt right. Over these last few months I've been working on a lot of other projects, that might come out some time eventually, but it showed me a lot about the flaws in my writing. I am planning on actually rewriting this fic, same concept but with more of a plot in mind and maybe a bit more drawn out. The first chapter was a drabble that accidentally spun into something more, and I had nothing solid in mind when I wrote the next chapter. This is not the end for it and hopefully I can rewrite something that is better (and write all the chapters before posting so this doesn't happen again lol). Thank you all so much for reading this story!


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